


to keep you

by clawstoagunfight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Begging, Coming Untouched, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Smut, ass worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawstoagunfight/pseuds/clawstoagunfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is sprawled out naked on Scott’s bed, the long line of his body on display—his back, the muscles of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the swell of his ass, the contours of his legs—and he’s looking over his shoulder at Scott with hooded eyes, a smirk playing over his kissable lips. In that moment, Scott wants nothing more than to wipe that look off of his face—to make Stiles feel so overwhelmed with pleasure that he forgets everything else but Scott’s name and the way he’s making him feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to keep you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Badgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badgers/gifts).



> Badgers and I had a deep convo about asses and skittles and this happened. I refuse to apologize. 
> 
> Beta'd by [thewolfthatwrites](http://thewolfthatwrites.tumblr.com/)!

Stiles is sprawled out naked on Scott’s bed, the long line of his body on display—his back, the muscles of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the swell of his ass, the contours of his legs—and he’s looking over his shoulder at Scott with hooded eyes, a smirk playing over his kissable lips. In that moment, Scott wants nothing more than to wipe that look off of his face—to make Stiles feel so overwhelmed with pleasure that he forgets everything else but Scott’s name and the way he’s making him feel.

Scott lifts the corner of his mouth up, stalking slowly over to the bed, Stiles’ dark eyes following the movement. He takes his time stripping off his clothes, lifting his shirt slowly, letting the sound of the zipper of his jeans fill the silence of the room, until his clothes are lying forgotten on the floor. He doesn’t remove his briefs, just kneels onto the bed, letting his eyes rake over Stiles’ body, biting his lip to keep from saying something like _you look so good in my bed_ or _I can’t believe you’re giving me this_. Instead, he just sits back on his knees between Stiles’ calves, reaching out to run his fingers over the course hairs of Stiles’ thighs, slowly spreading them.

Scott looks his fill. Stiles is open and on display for him, dark smatterings of moles and hair contrast sharply with the pale of his skin, with the goosebumps that rise up over his skin when Scott bends down, reaches out for the globes of his ass. He squeezes the flesh between his fingers, kneading it, working his fingers against it. It isn’t long before Scott leans closer, closing his eyes, bringing his face down so that he can nuzzle his cheek against Stiles’ ass. Scott lets out a hum, rubbing his face all over the smooth skin under his hands, moving his mouth to let his lips drag over the flesh, letting his warm breath ghost over the crack of Stiles’ ass.

Stiles shivers and Scott pulls back to look up at him over the line of his body. Stiles doesn’t say anything, looks away from Scott, but Scott sees the blush high on his cheeks. Scott makes a small sound—because, no, this isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t want Stiles to be ashamed of this, of letting Scott see him this way—so open and vulnerable—still, after all the times they’ve done this. He wants Stiles to know how good he looks, how much seeing him like this gives Scott pleasure—how fucking _perfect_  he looks, how his ass was just made for Scott to touch and taste and fill.

“Stiles,” he breathes his name, moving his eyes and attention back down to the ass in front of him. “Fuck, you don’t know how good you look.” His voice is low, raspy, like he’s already wrecked just from _looking_ at Stiles. He hums again, bringing a hand down from Stiles’ ass, to follow the crack of it, until he cups Stiles’ balls, rolling them around on his fingers, making the other man let out a shaky sigh. Scott takes the opportunity to lean down and capture the supple flesh between his teeth, nipping at the skin. Stiles gasps and it makes Scott want to hear it again.

He moves the hand between Stiles’ legs down, until he wraps his fingers around Stiles’ cock. He’s getting hard, finally; passed the embarrassment from before. He gives him a few firm strokes before he nips at another bit of skin, watching color rise in his cheeks, again and again, until he soothes it with his tongue, licking over the blooming spots, feeling the heat under his tongue.

Stiles makes a sound—something like a whimper—when Scott removes his hand, when he caresses his fingers back around to massage his fingers into the skin of Stiles’ ass. He leans back a little, wanting to see Stiles’ hole when he finally uses his thumbs to pull the globes apart. Stiles spreads his legs wider, letting Scott settle further between them. Scott doesn’t waste any more time. He spreads Stiles’ ass, takes a long look at his pink, puckered hole, before he leans down to press a kiss to it, to play his lips over the smooth skin around it, to scrape his blunt teeth over the skin just under it, until Stiles lets out a moan.

He flicks his tongue out next, circling it around the skin of his hole, letting Stiles acclimate to the feel of it. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s been a while—far too long, in Scott’ opinion. He runs a hand up over the small of Stiles’ back, digging his fingers into Stiles’ spine in the way that he knows helps to soothe him. Before long, Stiles is shifting on the sheets, lowering his face to rest against his forearms, lifting his ass just a little higher.

Scott takes it for the invitation that it is, bringing his hand back to spread Stiles cheeks wide, pressing the tip of his tongue to Stiles’ hole. He’s tight and hot and _tastes so fucking amazing_ that Scott feels his swollen cock leaking against his briefs. He’s sure if he looked down, he’d see a dark patch over the very obvious head of his cock trapped under the material. He doesn’t even spare a thought about reaching down to touch himself, though, because this—this is about Stiles. This is about Scott making him feel good, making him feel the way he deserves to; about giving Stiles back everything he’s given to Scott.

Scott works his tongue inside of Stiles—works it until his hole is wet and opening for him, until he can slide his tongue most of the way in. Stiles is starting to make _sounds_ that are driving Scott crazy, making him want to fuck his tongue into all of that tight heat, to taste where he’s just so _Stiles_ , to lick and suck and kiss and fuck his tongue and his fingers inside of the other man until he’s a moaning, writhing mess.

Scott presses his face further into Stiles’ ass, catching Stiles by surprise when he pushes his tongue all the way in, making Stiles gasp and clutch at the sheets in front of him. Scott moves his tongue in and out, fucking Stiles with it in earnest. He pulls away, sweeps his thumbs over his hole, tips catching on the ridges of his skin, pulling gently at it, until he’s open enough for Scott to look, to see Stiles, skin so red and wet and _open for him_. He kisses it again, flicks his tongue over it before slipping it back inside.

“F-fuck, Scott,” Stiles’ words are shaky, low, hesitant, like he didn’t mean to say them at all and they just slipped out.

Scott hums against his hole and feels Stiles tighten around his tongue. He pulls away with an obscene sound, bringing a finger up to circle his hole, pressing just the tip of his index finger against where he’s wet and open. “You like this, Stiles? Like the way my tongue feels inside of you?” Stiles nods and Scott can’t help but notice the way the back of Stiles’ neck starts to turn a delicious shade of pink that just makes Scott want to taste it, to feel the heat on his tongue.

He smirks instead, bringing his eyes back down to where he’s working the tip of his finger into Stiles’ lax hole. He watches it disappear, feels the smirk drop off of his face. “ _God_ , Stiles. You have no idea what you look like. You’re so fucking perfect.” He presses his finger further in, feels his breath hitch. “Jesus, you’re just _taking_ my fucking finger. So good, baby. You’re so beautiful.” The words are crooning, more a soothing whisper than anything else, but Stiles lets out a soft breath, moves his hips back, just a little, until Scott’s finger goes in to the second knuckle.

Scott removes his finger, chuckles a little at the disappointed curse Stiles lets out, but he just drapes himself over Stiles’ back, presses a kiss to his shoulder that makes Stiles hum in approval, and reaches into his bedside drawer to pull out his bottle of lube. He pops the cap and pours a generous amount into his hands. He takes his time with it, making sure it’s nice and warm for Stiles—he knows from experience that, to Stiles, nothing is worse than cold lube on sensitive places—before he’s back between Stiles’ legs, spreading his ass cheeks and pressing his finger back inside.

It’s so much better this time, sliding home without any resistance. He works it out and then back in again, flicking his wrist to twist the digit inside of him. “C’mon, Scotty—Need more. _Please_.”

It’s the please that does it. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Scott pulls out and adds another finger, slowly working them both back in, letting Stiles get used to the stretch. When he feels Stiles start to relax around his digits, he moves them—in and out, twisting, scissoring—working them inside of Stiles until the other man’s moans fill the room, until Scott is panting along with him, adjusting his position so he can rut against the mattress. The friction is amazing, doing just enough to take the edge off so that he can bring his free hand back around to stroke over Stiles cock.

His hand is slick with lube, and Scott touches Stiles the way he knows he likes to be touched—long, firm strokes. He presses his thumb against the slit at his head and Stiles shakes a little. “Shh,” Scott whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the smooth skin between Stiles balls and asshole. “It’s okay, baby. Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good. You deserve to feel good, Stiles.” He lets out a warm breath over Stiles’ skin that makes the other man shiver. “Does it feel good?”

Scott moves his fingers with intent then, finally pressing his slick fingertips against Stiles’ prostate, applying just the right kind of pressure.

The moan Stiles lets out sounds filthy—like his voice has been scraped raw by what Scott’s doing to him. It makes Scott twitch in his underwear, almost enough to bring him over the edge. But he can’t—not yet. Not until Stiles comes. He moves his hands faster, stripping Stiles’ cock with one while he fucks him with the other, setting a steady push and pull of back and forth.

Stiles lets out a string of obscenities, letting his forehead press against the sheets, moving his hips back, fucking himself onto Scott’s fingers, taking his pleasure from Scott’s hands, losing himself in it. “Scott,” his name from Stiles’ lips sounds more like a prayer than the whimper it is. “Scott, _please_. Please. I need to come. Want to come so badly. Please. _Fuck_ —”

Scott leans over and nips at the crease where Stiles’ ass meets his leg, just once, before he puts all of his focus into giving Stiles what he asked for. “Fuck, Stiles. You don’t know what you _do_ to me. You feel so good. _Taste_ so good. You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect for me, Stiles. I love when you let me have this—when you let me have _you_.” He presses his mouth to whatever skin is closest, just to taste the salt of his sweat. “ _Shit_ —I fucking love you.”

Just like that, Stiles is coming—his body shuddering and writhing against Scott’s busy hands like he’s not sure if he wants to push back or pull away. His back arches into the most perfect shape that Scott has ever seen, in a movement that lacks poise, but is just so Stiles that it takes his breath away. He’s overwhelmed, surrounded by Stiles and the pleasure _he gave to him._ Stiles yells Scott’s name, his voice all but broken, until it ends with little more than a sob, Stiles’ spent body collapsing against the bed.

Scott slowly pulls his hands away, wiping both of them on the sheet before he climbs up the bed, lying down beside where Stiles collapsed, the other man’s whiskey browns still hazy with the orgasm. He manages to smile at Scott and it’s everything Scott wants in that moment—for Stiles to be happy and cared for.

Scott moves until their lips press together in a chaste kiss that somehow feels more intimate than what they just got done doing.

Stiles hums. “Sorry. I’m useless right now. Gimme a minute and I’ll return the favor.” He presses his lips to Scott’s once more, rubs the tips of their noses together, sighs like he’s content.

It makes something in Scott’s chest clench. “No, I—I’m good.” Scott looks down at where his now sticky briefs are practically molded to his body. He definitely _does not_ flush when Stiles’ eyes follow the movement.

The other man lets out a bright laugh and Scott can’t help but echo it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://clawstoagunfight.tumblr.com/)!


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